Life Is a Gamble
by Jaede Loriele Conlon
Summary: In the blink of an eye our lives could end, at the snap of a finger we could be saying farewell to this earth, and in less then a second we could be gone. Two years after the death of our dear friend Racetrack, let his memory live on in the hearts of many
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Disney newsies, and I do not claim to. Disney, you can sue if you like, but you'll only get a penny (not worth your trouble).  
  
Life Is a Gamble  
  
In the blink of an eye our lives could end, at the snap of a finger we could be saying farewell to this earth, and in less then a second we could be gone. This is what Racetrack understood as he said his last few words. This is what he told us in his last few words, and this is what we will pass on to our children.  
  
It has been two years since the death of our dear friend Race, or as others knew him, Anthony Higgins, but he still lives on in our hearts and our minds, and it is his story that I want to pass on to you. Don't let his memory be lost with you. 


	2. His Father's Blood

His Fathers Blood  
  
You good for nothing piece of scum! I shoulda know dat you would take her away. take her away. take her away.  
  
Anthony covered his ears with his hands, but his father's voice still echoed through his head. "No. no. Please jist go away!" he moaned, and cowered further into the corner.  
  
You took her way from me, You took her away! Ya lousy scumbag! It's you fault that she's in yonder grave! Your fault, do you hear me? Your fault. your fault. your fault.  
  
Anthony shook his head from side to side, but the voice still persisted. I oughta send ya to hell! Send ya to hell. send ya to hell. send ya to hell.  
  
"No!" a sharp cry echoed throughout the empty house. "No!" he screamed again. Anthony took his hands from his ears and looked at them. They were covered with dried blood; the blood of his father. It had been a violent and dangerous act he knew, but it had to be done. It was either him or his father, he chose his father. Anthony continued to stare at his blood stained hands.  
  
You killed your mother, its only fate that you kill her father too. You killed them. you killed them. You killed Your parents.  
  
Anthony shuddered and closed his eyes. He knew he was guilty, he'd been drilled with that fact from the day he was born, and he knew that he was what his father had called him; a good for nothing scumbag. Tears began to form in his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away. Slowly Anthony stood up and stumbled over to the water basin. Quickly he scrubbed his hands, washing away the dried blood of his fathers, and the tears began falling from his eyes. He tried to brush them away, but they kept coming. Anthony collapsed to the floor, covering his face with his arms, and he sobbed. He cried out all the pain, and the guilt, and the sorrow, until there were no tears left to cry. He looked at his hands again, and he saw the blood that he would never be able to wash away, the blood of his father. 


	3. Encountering Spot

Encountering Spot Conlon  
  
Anthony shrank back into the dark, damp corner of an alleyway. He was tired, hungry, and cold. For days he'd been simply running, walking, and sleeping only when absolutely necessary. Anthony rested his head in his hands and tried to rest, but the loud growling from his protesting stomach kept him awake. Groaning, Anthony crawled out of the alley and determined to either get some money, or get some food, whichever came first. Glancing around he looked for someone who would be easy praying for picking a pocket. His eye caught a small scrawny kid, off in a corner busily selling his papes. Anthony grinned as he thought to himself, My luck is lookin' up! This kid oughta be easy seein' as he's busy, an' all. Slowly he mad his way towards the newsie, keeping his eye on him the whole time. Nervously he decided to make a dash for it, and ran straight towards the kid. Just as he was about to reach him the newsie neatly side stepped him, then turned and grabbed Anthony by the arm.  
  
"What da Heck do ya t'ink yer doin'?!" the newsie yelled into Anthony's surprised face. The newsie let go of his arm, but when Anthony tried to make a break for it, he grabbed his shirt and got up in his face. "Goin' somewhere's?" he growled menacingly. "Ya gots one chance ta tell me what you was doin' before Ise soak ya." Anthony visibly winced, and shivered.  
  
"Ise was just runnin'-" but before Anthony could finish his sentence a fist came flying into his face.  
  
"Try da truth this time why dontchya." Smirked the newsie. Anthony gulped and braced himself for another punch  
  
"I was gonna pick yer pocket." He whispered.  
  
"Hey! What was dat? I didn' heah ya!" The newsie yelled in his face. Anthony flinched and repeated himself a little louder.  
  
"Well, if dats all I'll let ya go, but don't let me catch you picking Spot Conlon's pocket again!" then the newsie, or Spot Conlon as he called himself, shoved Anthony away from him and stalked off.  
  
Anthony stumbled, and fell back into the street when Spot shoved him backwards. Grudginly he picked himself up and started walking to nowhere in particular. 


	4. Finding a Home?

Finding A Home  
  
About forty-five minutes after walking through the streets he arrived at a small run down building that said Newsboy Lodging House. Cautiously and slowly he opened the door and walked in.  
  
"Can I help you?" Anthony started at the voice that unexpectedly came from the shadows. "Yeah, ummm. I'se lookin' fer a place ta stay. Ya got some room heah?" Anthony asked tentatively trying desperately to see who he was talking to.  
  
"Yeah," said the voice as he came from the shadows. The voice belonged to a small, old man. He held a little smile on his face, and a friendly posture. His eyes twinkled with the prospect of having yet another newsie to become a father figure to. "What's your name child?" the old man asked kindly.  
  
Anthony nervously fidgeted, and glanced around him, his eyes darting this way and that. "Me names Anthony, or I mean, Tony." He whispered as his eyes found his shoes and began to examine them.  
  
"Well Tony, you got any money?"  
  
"Ummmm. no."  
  
"Okay then you can stay her tonight for free, but after that you've got to pay the rent." The twinkle in old man's eyes grew dim, as he began to feel the nervousness, and fear that came from this small, maybe ten year old, child.  
  
"Okay." Anthony's heart sank. He had no way of getting money, and he didn't want to take advantage of the old man, but he really did need some place to stay.  
  
The old man sensed the trouble that Anthony was in, and he kindly came towards him and put his arm around him. "Hey, look, ya wanna job?" Anthony eagerly nodded his head. "Okay, then we'll get you one. How 'bout being a newsie."  
  
Anthony thought about that for a while, he remembered the newsie he'd ran into earlier that day.  
  
I can't be that tough, he thought. If I've gotta be like that, mean and rude to every person I meet then, I don't think I can do that, but it does beat crime, and sleeping on the streets. "Okay, I'll be a newsie. But I don't really know how to be one."  
  
"Well I'll have Jack show ya how that's done, you two can be selling partners." Anthony wondered who this Jack was, and if he were as tough and mean as the Spot he'd met earlier. "I asked ya how old you were, kid?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, I'm eight, but I'll be nine, in about a month." The old man shook his head slightly. They get younger every time, he thought. "Well, Jack, and the others ought to be here soon."  
  
True to his word, 'Jack and the others' soon burst throw the door.  
  
"Heya Kloppman!!!" they cried happily. Today had been a good selling day.  
  
"Sold seventy this time, Kloppman!" cried one of the younger ones. Anthony noticed the cowboy hat on his head, and the red bandanna around his neck, and wondered if this boy had come from the west.  
  
"Hey, Jack, that's pretty good! Getting better all the time! But, I've got someone I want you to meet." Kloppman (the old man) led Jack over to where Anthony was sitting with wide eyes staring at the newsies around him.  
  
"Hey Tony, this is Jack, Jack this is Tony." Kloppman casually introduced them. "Jack I want ya to teach Tony here the ropes, okay?"  
  
"Yeah sure Kloppman." Jack replied nonchalantly. "So Tony how old are you?"  
  
"I'm almost nine." Anthony replied. This. wait, what was his name? Cowboy, guess that works, this Cowboy sure is nothing like Spot whatever-his-name- was.  
  
"How old are you, Cowboy?" Anthony asked, in return. Jack laughed at the name.  
  
"Cowboy? He he! That's pretty good, Tony. Ya in the nickname business?" Jack only earned a confused look, so he quit laughing, and replied. "I'm thirteen, been a newsie for three years. Someday, I'll be the leader of this here gang, but for the moment, Harts, over there is." As he spoke he beckoned towards a much older looking guy. Maybe seventeen or eighteen, Anthony mused.  
  
"Well, welcome to the newsies, Tony!" 


End file.
